


souls are fragile (you would take mine apart)

by fireflyfall



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: (though they ARE the main target of it given their circumstances), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Experimentation, Gen, Ghost Cores (Danny Phantom), Implied/Referenced Torture, Mentioned not described, Obsessions, One Shot, danny has a bleeding heart and his obsession is not exclusive to amity park, my take on a 'danny saves a ghost from his parents' experimenting hands' situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27225253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflyfall/pseuds/fireflyfall
Summary: That is a core.That is acore,lying bright yet weak andvulnerablein a messy pool of ectoplasm (that must have been their body, fuck fuckfuck) - theliteral embodimentof a ghost’s being. A core is basically equivalent to asoul.And his parents areright here,standing over it with gleaming scalpels and grins of delight -as if they hadn’t just stripped apersonof their entire body, as if they aren’t about to dissect and pull into pieces the most intimate part of their very being-“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Mom says, her fingers ghosting over the surface of the painfully (wrongfully)exposedcore.(Help them. Help them. Protect protectprotect, isn’t that your job,isn’t that what you’re still here for?)All notions of a plan get thrown out the window.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 381





	souls are fragile (you would take mine apart)

“Why don’t you take a look, son?” his dad says, beaming.

Dread weighs heavy in his gut; but Danny pastes on a smile and says, “Sure,” walking up to what is undoubtedly a dissection table. Whatever is on it glows - though his dad’s bulky figure blocks his view, it’s definitely a ghost, and Danny quickly tries to think of a way to get whoever they’d captured out of this situation.

(Even if he doubts the cry for **_help_ ** he’d felt faintly through his core, the scream he had caught just before entering the basement was _horrible,_ and unmistakably real - god, the _screaming-_ )

Dad shuffles around to the other end of the table, leaving Danny a space next to Mom to stand by it. Danny just wishes he had gotten here sooner; dissection is a fate he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemies-

He stops.

That-

That is a core.

That is a _core,_ lying bright yet weak and _vulnerable_ in a messy pool of ectoplasm (that must have been their body, fuck fuck _fuck_ ) - the _literal embodiment_ of a ghost’s being. A core is basically equivalent to a _soul._ And his parents are _right here,_ standing over it with gleaming scalpels and grins of delight - _as if they hadn’t just stripped a_ **_person_ ** _of their entire body, as if they aren’t about to dissect and pull into pieces the most intimate part of their very being-_

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Mom says, her fingers ghosting over the surface of the painfully ( _wrongfully_ ) _exposed_ core. It shivers at her touch, trying to edge _away_ from her latex-gloved fingers, and in that moment all Danny can think of is their screams, projecting so hard that even though the lab is decently soundproofed he could almost _hear it_ all the way upstairs, just by the pure terror and _desperation_ in their cries for help. If Danny doesn’t do something _they’re going to die here_ and _they_ **_know_ ** _it._

( _Help them. Help them. Protect protectprotect, isn’t that your job,_ **_isn’t that what you’re still here for?_ **)

All notions of a plan get thrown out the window. There is no goddamn _time_ to sneak the ghost through the portal after the fact.

Danny shoves his mom away from the dissection table without warning. She yelps in surprise, and a loud series of crashes tells him she’s landed _hard_ into the one with all the beakers on it; but protecting the weakened ghost from his dad is the only thing on his mind. Danny _lunges_ forward and quickly scoops up the flickering core with both hands, immediately jumping back before Dad can grab him.

It turns out he didn’t even have to worry; the man was too busy running to his wife’s side and making sure she was okay before doing anything about Danny. And by the time either had realized what Danny was trying to do, he had already made it halfway to the stairs back up to the house.

“ _Danny!_ ”

He jolts as he stops mid-step, his core buzzing _loudly_ in his ears with the adrenaline and the tiny core of the ghost he’s saving trapped safely in a little cage of his fingers.

“Danny, what are you _doing?_ ”

“I’m _saving a life,_ ” he says steely, turning to face the surprised, _hurt_ faces of his parents, and pulling away at the same time; because he _cannot trust them_ not to do anything with his back turned. Not with this. Not with a _life_ on the line.

(Do ghosts have _lives,_ or _afterlives?_ Does it really matter? Danny doesn’t think the terminology matters, because a life is a life is a _life,_ no matter if the person is already once dead.)

“You’re interrupting our examination of the specimen,” his mom says correctingly. His ice-cold core isn’t the reason he _shivers,_ taking another step back just to be safe. “They’re not alive, Danny. We’ve talked about this.”

He snaps back, “They _do feel pain,_ you just want an excuse to _experiment_ on them-”

“ _Don’t take that tone with me, young man!_ ”

His mouth snaps closed, fear rising in his chest despite himself. He stares at his parents wide-eyed, with an honest, stricken _shock_ that is undoubtedly written all over his face.

_Come on, Danny, you can’t chicken out now- someone is_ **_depending_ ** _on you to make it out of here with them intact._

He swallows, his throat inexplicably feeling sandpaper-dry. “Mom. They were screaming,” Danny says, his voice almost a whisper. “It was- _they,_ they were f-” He stops, trapping the harsh swear behind his tongue, just before his throat - not spitting it out, but not quite able to swallow it back. “They were _screaming._ ”

“It was making an attempt to escape, nothing more,” his mom- his- _she_ says soothingly, a soft tone that doesn’t feel soft and only makes fear and _horror_ freeze hotter in his body. “Ghosts can’t feel pain, Danny, remember?”

“ _They_ were _screaming,_ ” Danny says again, his voice more properly horrified as the weight of the situation finally sinks in, cradling the painfully _vulnerable_ ghost’s core closer to his chest. Closer to his own core which secretly rests right next to his heart, a central part of his being that his parents don’t know _exists_ \- and for a ghost to have it out in the open like this, _stripped from of their body for anyone to see and_ **_hurt-_ **

( ** _Protect,_** that insistent, core-deep feeling of his _demands,_ his core vibrating in sympathy with the injured ghost’s. _Protect protect protect. Help them,_ ** _help them,_** _protect them, protect._ )

He doesn’t trust his parents not to- to _anything,_ right now, other than outright hurt _Danny Fenton._ (Danny _Fenton,_ not Danny _Phantom,_ and isn’t that just sad?) He _can’t_ trust his parents with anything, for this very moment.

Except that they won’t purposely bring harm to their _completely human_ son, which is why his own body is the best defense for this all-too- _vulnerable_ ghost, right now.

“ _It_ is playing you for a fool. I’m sorry, Danny, but you know how ghosts are.” She steps closer, and he takes two slightly-too-fast steps back in turn, hunching over his cupped palms slightly as if it would keep the _dying_ ghost in his hands any safer from the- the _killing_ hands of his parents. “Danny, honey. It’s tricking you. You’re going to get hurt.”

He shakes his head frantically, never taking his eyes off either of his parents. His mom sighs, and holds out a hand, her palm facing up. “Danny. Give us the ghost.”

“ _No,_ ” Danny says, backing up a few steps more, until his heel hits the bottom of the stairwell. “You’re going to kill them. You’re going to _kill them._ ”

“It’s already dead,” she says, and that _hurts_ in a way that he hadn’t expected.

He curls around the ghost slightly more - whether to physically withdraw from the sting of that callous remark, or in a feeble attempt to guard the ghost just that little bit better, he doesn’t know. Danny glares at his parents, almost _daring_ them to try to harm this little ghost - who is under _his_ protection at the moment - under _his_ watch. They all stand there, stock-still, an unspoken stalemate between the three - his mom, dad, and Danny.

His fingers twitch with the stiffness of them, and he’s suddenly fully aware again of the ghost held with a careful, hyper-cautious gentleness in his palms, stripped bare and vulnerable and _violated_ to the very core of their being. It’s- _they’re,_ ( _not_ **_it,_ ** even if he’d meant it like a person means _it_ when referring to an ungendered baby,) they’re purring, so weakly Danny can barely hear them even with his auditory enhancements. The vibrations of their core _scream_ for help in a way that only ghosts would understand. It reverberates through the halfa’s fingers and ribcage and his _core,_ which hums and pulses and vibrates with them, a desperate attempt to comfort the weakened ghost, trying to radiate and communicate the thrum of _protect protect protect_ that’s engraved within his _bones._

( _His unspoken vow of protection is to Amity Park, but he can’t just_ **_leave_ ** _a ghost so hurt, a ghost so desperately, wretchedly in need. A ghost- no,_ **_anyone_ ** _in this state does not deserve whatever further fate his parents have planned for them._ )

The light of the ghost’s core flickers minutely; they’re on the brink of instability, their entire core _trembling_ to keep themself together and Danny is _so fucking scared_ for them.

He thinks the ghost might be dying.

_I won’t let anything happen to you,_ he hopes the synchronized purring of his core can convey, even though that’s already a _lie_ since he was late, late, _late,_ because they _never_ should have gotten this hurt in the first place. _It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay._

(Cats purr when they’re sick or dying. _This ghost is hurt and_ **_dying._ **)

“Mom? Dad?” Danny says, his voice cracking in the middle - sounding _scared,_ too scared (because he _is_ but they don’t understand that Danny is scared of _them_ ). He glances between both, eyes eventually lying on the one closest to him - his mother.

“Yes,” she says, and there’s a spark of hope- _relief_ in her eyes, and he’s sad but not regretful (even though it _hurts_ ) that he’s going to have to dash that hope _hard_ into the ground. “Danny, it’s going to be okay. Just give the ghost to me, okay? Just give it to me, and you’ll be safe. You trust me more than- than _that,_ don’t you?”

_‘That’._ The following _‘thing’_ in it goes unspoken, but Danny can hear it loud and clear.

( _Would I be a_ **_thing,_ ** _too, in your eyes?_ )

He stares for a few more seconds, biting his lip anxiously. It may look like hesitation from the outside, and maybe it _is,_ just a little bit.

But ultimately, the rest of him is concerned only with the method of escape that will buy him the most time to get _away._

He takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, but _no._ ”

Danny _sprints_ up the stairs, trying not to pay attention to exactly what his parents are shouting behind him. Thoughts of making a run for his room crosses his mind in panicked, split-second considerations, but there’s no time to grab his bag. The ecto-dejectos in his wall may help the weakened ghost _but there’s no time to grab those, either._ He’ll have to ask Jazz to get it later - there’s another _life_ depending on him, and Danny _won’t_ risk it just for a few material fucking items, even if it may help them. (There has to _be_ a life to save for the ecto-dejectos to work in the first place.)

Just before the top step, the anti-ghost defense system alarms blare obnoxiously, and a painful flash of panic jolts through his chest but it _doesn’t fucking matter._ He crosses the house in seconds, phasing through anything in his way before he can think better of it because he’s _barely_ keeping himself from flying, and before he can even process it all properly he’s out the front door-

He jolts to a stop five strides from the door. The ghost shield is up.

Fuck. _Danny_ can make it through, but the ghost in his hands _won’t be able to-_

He starts running again as he hears his parents’ yells, muffled through the still-closed front door - tenderly cupping the little core awkwardly to his chest with his left hand, the other fumbling in a panic-fueled state with the thermos hooked at his waist. He could _scream_ when his fingers slip on the swinging thermos a couple of times before grasping it, but he manages.

Danny jumps the last step before the ectoplasm-green of the ghost shield and lands on the pavement in front of it with both feet to quickly disperse his forward momentum. He whispers a little “ _sorry_ ” to the ghost as he yanks the body of the thermos off the cap, carefully pulling them away from his chest. The halfa cautiously takes his hand away, letting the ghost core float in the air to get them with the beam and not his own hand. He could cry when the bright blue of the thermos lights up and engulfs the ghost, zapping the poor thing into its safe confines just as his parents burst through the front door, ectoguns and ghost detector in hand.

“ _DANNY-_ ”

He doesn’t give them a chance to get a word in edgewise, quickly taking off and passing effortlessly through the shield. He _runs,_ and he does not look back. Danny hurriedly snaps the thermos back onto the cap still attached to his waist, holding it tightly in one hand as he flees from the only home he’s ever known - with a sole, dying ghost in his thermos and the clothes on his back.

( _ Protect protect protect protect, _ his core thrums, fierce and fast with the pounding of his now almost  _ human-normal _ heart rate from adrenaline. Even though it  _ hurts _ like hell to know that his parents will probably feel  _ betrayed _ at this, and never think the same of him again, he can’t truly bring himself to regret a damn thing.)

**Author's Note:**

> i finished this at 4 in the morning please forgive me for any oocness or rough flow/pacing, i tried lol


End file.
